Stars and Sunlight
by Thalius
Summary: Naomi is paired up with strangers in Spartan Town while stationed on board the Infinity, away from her friends, and when the opportunity to catch up with Vaz in the atrium presents itself, she doesn't waste any time. Rated M for language and some sexy stuff.
1. Part I

**AN: **Another pairing of mine that I absolutely adore, and they'll probably be appearing in _Tension_ at some point; for now, though, they'll be confined to this one-shot until I get my fly-away muse under control. I really wanted some Vaz/Naomi stuff and was sad to discover there wasn't really any. So, voila! Happy reading!

* * *

**Stars and Sunlight - Part I  
**

The ship was all wrong. She couldn't see the stars, couldn't see anything besides steel and grey. It felt like a tomb.

Worse still, she wasn't with the rest of Kilo-5. She was required to eat in the Spartan mess and sleep in Spartan quarters, away from Vaz and Mal and Lian. She was with strangers, being stared at by the Spartan-IVs and hearing whispered rumours and gossip about the fabled _Original Spartans._

_Infinity_ had windows, of course, but they were far away from Spartan Town, in the officers' quarters. Too far, too restricted. And even further from the marine barracks, further from her friends.

Train, observe, learn, and report back. That was their objective. Osman had doubts about the senior officers aboard the ship and their ability to follow crucial orders—orders Naomi wasn't even sure how to feel about. Meeting her father had been the first time she'd ever thought ill of Halsey, and now, if the reports were to be believed, the woman who'd made her what she is today was helping the Sangheili attack the UNSC. Kilo-5 had been placed on the ship under the guise of simple transfer orders from the higher-ups to boost _Infinity's_ already impressive military might, and as far as she could tell no one thought anything of it—they were going into the most dangerous operations and missions, after all.

Much too complicated in her opinion, so she decided not to think about any of that. Instead she trained, and watched, and listened. And at night, she dreamt of stars and russian accents and how much she missed her friends.

"Drink much, Petty Officer?"

Boy, she missed her friends.

She looked up at the voice, annoyed at another interruption—she'd been eating her supper, tucked away in one of the corners of the mess hall, content and quiet. Naomi had been off-duty for a total of eight minutes before someone decided to bother her.

They _always _asked silly questions, like she was an encyclopedia they could flip through whenever it pleased them, learning about the poor, lonely life of the prudish Spartan Originals. She couldn't guess at the reason, but they seemed amused at her answers, whatever they happened to be. It made her feel like she was excluded from some perpetual inside joke. _Vaz and Mal never did that to me._

Markus, a Spartan-IV with dark red armour and an ego the size of the ship he served on, was the owner of the invading voice. From Team Tempest, the one she'd been assigned to "advise". He had a plastic bottle in his hand, but she decided that from the smell, it wasn't the regulation-approved energy shakes available in the mess. He was flanked by two other men, Pudi and Woloch, also from Tempest, and also looking like they'd shared a few swigs of whatever was in the bottle. She wondered why they were being so open with the alcohol—the last time Palmer caught one of her Spartans drinking contraband liquor, she made them do laps around the gyms for all of third shift, which was usually when the Spartans were allowed to sleep.

"I drink water," she replied. Her thoroughly Spartan answer put his face in a knot, as she knew it would.

"Nah, I mean _drink._ Aqua-vitae, man. You don't par-take?" he waved the bottle in a large arc, spilling a few drops on the table. She set down her utensils and stood up, taking her half-eaten food towards the waste dispenser. She'd already lost her appetite.

"No, sir. And we aren't allowed it on the ship, either."

"Some rules are worth breaking, don't you think?" He took a swig and grinned at her. Most weren't so bold as him, and it annoyed her to no end that he seemed to completely disregard the caution the other Spartans employed when speaking to her.

_Just leave me __**alone.**_ _If I wanted to talk, I wouldn't be sitting with strangers._

"Some," she agreed. "But not this one."

His head cocked. "You gonna tell? Why don't you take a sip first and see?"

"Yeah, Naomi, take a drink! Live a little!" Woloch piled on. The way he said her name came out as _No-mee,_ and her patience began to wear.

"No, thank you." She turned her back and began washing her plate and fork, trying to ignore them.

Snickering came from one of the men. "Oh-ho, not interested in him, eh?" Pudi asked, and she saw in her periphery that he took a step towards her. "Is he too pale for you? Want something more exotic, I guess?"

"Nah man—come on, Naomi—" Another step, this time from both Woloch and Markus. "Don't you wanna have a good time?"

"I was, until you interrupted me," she said, her voice flat. Almost sounding angry now.

"What were you eating?" He was right behind her now, the bottle tipped almost parallel to the floor, and when he leaned over to over her shoulder to look at the soapy water, some of the foul-smelling alcohol splashed onto her standard-issue PT pants.

"Step back," she ground out, letting the plate fall into the sink before she broke it.

"Ha ha!" Woloch burst out. "She don't want _you,_ Markus. Step _back."_ Woloch moved to the man's right, an elbow stuck out in an attempt to shove into Markus's position in front of her.

"All of you," she amended. "Please step away, now."

"_Ooooh_, blondie's _mad _now—"

"The fuck are you doing?"

Her eyes snapped up and she looked over her shoulder, past the Spartans, and landed on the person she wanted to see most right now. Slavic features were pulled together in a dangerous grimace that only a Russian could accomplish, the ugly scar on his jaw only adding to the overall hellish expression.

"The fuck are you? Go back to your cage, Helljumper, with the rest of you." Markus—or asshole, if Naomi was being indulgent—turned a sloppy one-eighty to face Vaz, more alcohol littering the floor and making the mess smell like the bathroom floor of a bar.

_Not that I know what that smells like._

"No, I think I'll stay here." Despite the look on his face, he sounded calm, his accent clipped and muted. Like he was choosing each word very carefully.

"Not much room in here, I'm 'fraid," the lead Spartan said, pulling off the ODST's relaxed tone far less gracefully.

"Then you can leave."

Markus dropped heavily into a mess bench, his back to the table, and took a swig, making sure not to break eye contact. "No, I think I'll stay." The others, more reluctantly, did the same, less sure of themselves as they had been before.

Vaz looked at her, ignoring them, his expression softening marginally. "Go for a run with me, Naomi?"

"Yes," she said quickly, patting her hands on a towel before moving away from the sink.

"The fuck?" Markus spat, glaring at her. "Dog walks in and you jump off your feet to follow?"

"Yes," was all she said, moving around the Spartans and towards the door. Towards him.

"No, actually." The man stood up, heading for the door as well—for what, exactly, she wasn't sure. But on his current path, he'd collide with her in a few seconds.

Before that could happen, the ODST was there, in front of her. Markus stood at least a head taller than him, but the fact that the russian had to crane his neck to glare at him didn't diminish the effect.

"Stay the fuck away."

"Make me, little man."

"Stop," she said. Not loudly, like the others, but enough to be heard. She grabbed Vaz's hand, tugging him in the opposite direction. "Come on, let's go for a run."

Vaz didn't take his eyes off of Markus, even when she pulled hard enough to make him stumble a little to catch his balance.

"I will be informing Commander Palmer of this incident, Lieutenant," Naomi said, her and Vaz now poised at the door frame. "About all of you."

"Hey, wait, we didn't do anything—" Pudi said quickly, a look of panic on his face. "Just some fun—"

"Goodnight, Team Tempest. Drills will start for you three at oh-four-thirty tomorrow morning." She pulled Vaz out of the room before they could say anything else, and jammed the button until the door closed behind them.

She let go of his fingers, and he ran an irritated hand through his short hair, leaning against the wall. "Did they hurt you?"

She raised a brow. "Do you think I'd let them?"

His mouth twitched. "No. But they looked..." He shook his head. "They looked like they might have tried."

"Silly boys getting drunk," she said, waving him off. "Early drills will sort them out."

"I saw the way they looked at you," he said, his voice quiet and filled with something close to rage. "They wanted—"

She looked at him, watching him clamp up in fury. She grabbed his hand again, squeezing his fingers. "I'm okay, Vasily."

Vaz nodded, some of the tension leaving his shoulders with her answer. "You still hungry? We can grab food somewhere if you like." He shoved off of the wall, and she followed him, easily matching his stride.

She allowed her face to scrunch up in mild disgust. "Not really. Whatever was in that bottle's given me a headache. It smelled awful."

He looked up at her, concerned. "Did you want to sleep? We can go somewhere else if you don't want to go to the Spartan barracks."

She thought for a minute, trying to think of somewhere to go. She smiled when the answer came to her a moment later. "Can we got to the Atrium?"

He grinned back. "Of course, _moyo solnishko."_

As he pulled her towards the tram system, she tried—and failed—to repeat the word he'd said.

"What does… solsh—sol-nees—"

"_Moyo solnishko__—"_ he said, more slowly, "—means my sunshine." He looked at the long braid running down her back. "Your hair, it reminds me of Earth's sun."

And there it was. The anger and the annoyance and the lonely ball of lead in her stomach disappeared instantly, replaced by a warm, fluttering feeling that made breathing difficult, even though she was walking at a snail's pace.

"_Mo-yo solnish-ko,"_ she stumbled, and his grin widened. "I like it. You'll have to teach me more russian words."

"_Da,"_ he answered. "Come on, we'll go to the Atrium."

* * *

It was "night" in the Atrium, the panels of glass reflecting the stars outside and the artificial sunlight having been shut off. The grass was bathed in the light of a fake moon somewhere above them, and she felt her body relax under the pale light. The smell of trees and damp plants reminded her of Reach, and thoughts of her old home eased the tension she'd been carrying around for the past few weeks.

"Why were you in Spartan Town?" she asked Vaz, who'd spread out his jacket on the grass and pulled her down to sit next to him. They had scrapped the idea of going for a run—she wanted to be close to him, to soak up every moment she had with him before he had to leave again.

"I couldn't sleep, and there weren't any drills today, so I wanted to see you." His rough hand held hers, his thumb brushing her knuckles. "I haven't seen you in over a week."

She let her head rest on his shoulder, and Naomi smiled when he pressed his cheek to her hair. "I missed all of you. Mal and Lian—but you especially."

"Must be around bad company if you're missing Mal," he whispered, and she felt a small laugh escape her.

"It is. They look at me like… like I'm a lab experiment." His hand stilled on hers, his grip tightening. "They ask me questions all the time and whisper about me. The only one who doesn't seem to care that I'm a Spartan is Commander Palmer." She liked Palmer. The woman had zero tolerance for idiocy or incompetence from her soldiers, and was the only person who spoke to her like she was a human being.

_If everyone talks to you like you're a machine, does it make you one?_

"They train well enough, and are good soldiers, but… they're strangers. I don't know how to act around them, not like I do around you guys."

He pulled away from her hair to look at her. "I'll beat anyone into the ground who mistreats you." His tone was serious, but she couldn't help but be both amused and touched. He'd break every bone in his body before successfully beating up a Spartan, but the notion was nonetheless admirable.

She laughed, and his face darkened. "I don't think that will be very easy with the IVs."

"Then you can hold them down while I beat them," he amended, a rueful smile on his face. "I'm sorry you've been pulled away from the rest of us. I have to put up with other ODSTs, but at least I know a few of them."

She touched his cheek, feeling stubble rasp against her fingers. "I don't want to talk about them anymore." No more thoughts of the odd men and women she had to be around. Vaz was here with her, now, and that was all that mattered.

"What do you want to talk about?" His face moved in her palm, and he kissed her fingers, laying a hand over top of hers. Her heart sped up at his actions, and she felt nervous and excited at the same time. It only strengthened her resolve to say her next words.

"I don't want to talk at all," she murmured, and he looked over at her.

"Naomi?" She loved how he said her name, the vowels rolling around in his mouth like marbles, harsh and soft all at once.

She looked at his mouth, and saw his pupils dilate in her periphery. "I want… I want you to kiss me, like before." His face was close enough now that the breath he blew out brushed against her cheeks, and then he pressed close to her, his mouth overlapping hers.

His hands slipped into her hair, and they rolled off his jacket, onto the grass. Vaz shifted onto his back, and she curled up beside him, making sure not to break their kiss. It was slow and gentle, like it always was when they first kissed, but laying here with him, alone for the first time in weeks, made her want more than just slow and gentle.

She pressed her body into his, molding her lips more harshly over his mouth. He grunted at the sudden increase in pressure, and she suddenly worried that she was hurting him until he pressed back, sighing into her lips.

Slowly, her body made its way on top of his, their chests and arms touching and their legs twining together. If Vaz minded her weight on him, he made no complaint—in fact, he groaned when her breasts pushed into his chest, a deep rumble that she felt more than heard.

This wasn't entirely new for them. Kissing had occasionally gone beyond a few timid pecks of the lips, and when it did it made her feel dizzy and sick and exhilarated all at the same time. It was frightening, to feel so _intense,_ so excited that she had trouble catching her breath, and it was then that she usually pulled away, afraid and shivering with… something, she didn't know what to call it.

She felt all of those again, every emotion that pressed against her ribs and made her feel out of control, but listening to Vasily's harsh breathing and feeling his hard body against her own made her decide that _this,_ whatever it was, was worth pushing outside of her comfort zone—hell, a few years ago she wouldn't have even been willing to hold hands with someone, let alone roll around in the grass and make out with them.

Naomi pulled away for a moment, catching her breath and looking down at her ODST. His hazel eyes had a glazed look to them, but he blinked a few times and passed a hand over his face.

"Sorry, I got a little excited," he said immediately. He ran an idle hand through her hair, eyes darting over her features.

"No," she whispered, and sat up. Her legs fell on either side of his stomach, and she saw his eyes widen with the movement. "I like it."

He sat up, a hand in her hair, and kissed her again. He was more rough now, less restrained. It made her shiver. Her hands pulled on his shirt, and he raised his arms to let her take it off.

She broke away again, looking down at his body. "You're so warm," she murmured, tracing a finger over his skin. He sucked in a harsh breath when she circled around a nipple. His body was hard, his bones threaded over with lean, tight muscle, the graceful arrangement only interrupted by scars—and he had his fair share of them.

He sat still, watching her face as she moved a hand over his torso. When she got to his flat stomach, she felt his belly quiver when she feathered her fingers over his skin. So many reactions to touch, she marveled, becoming more bold. It was exciting to watch him respond to every touch of hers, doubly so because he was reacting to _her._

She wondered, dimly, what it would feel like if he did the same to her.

Naomi met his eyes, which were half-lidded and dark with arousal. Her position on his lap gave her further evidence of his excitement, and when she shifted her position he let out a low moan.

"Vasya?"

"_Solnishko,"_ he murmured back, his hands on her arms.

"I want you to make love to me." The words shook as she said them, tiny and scared, but she said them.

He blinked again, shock clear on his features. "Naomi?" Vaz swallowed, his throat contracting painfully. "Are you… are you sure?"

"Yes," she answered, and a bubble of terror rose in her chest at the decision. She did her best to push it back down.

She was more sure of it than she thought possible. Hearing his voice, the way he said her name, the way he touched her… she wanted it to happen. She'd wanted it for a long while, really, but fear had always stopped her. Fear of failing, of letting someone be that close, of being terrible at it—she knew all of those things still made her afraid, but she wouldn't be alone. Vaz would be there, as he always was.

She was a Spartan. She would not let fear stop her now.

"Lie down," he murmured into her ear, and she swallowed hard, nodding. They switched their positions carefully, almost in slow motion—Vaz moved with deliberation, and more gently than she thought someone could possibly move.

Now on her back, she stared up at him, trying to quell the shudder running through her bones. He moved back down, kissing her again. He was slow and soft, as they had been before, and all he did for a while was kiss her. Their bodies were flush together, but he didn't move to touch her or do anything besides press his lips against hers. It was nice, wonderful really, but… it left her wanting, now that she'd said the words to him.

_This isn't making love_, she thought, almost impatiently. _I looked it up._

With flaming cheeks and a deep-rooted embarrassment, she'd looked it up. Watched on her small data-pad as two people moved as one, fluid and primal and close. And they did _not_ have clothes on. That had been what stuck out to her—how _bare _they were, how close together.

Another minute, and she grew annoyed at the lack of progress. She pressed into his mouth, urging him to continue. "Vaz," she said around his lips. "Come _on." _She'd decided this would happen, dammit, and the longer she waited, the more time it gave her to chicken out.

He pulled away, a big grin on his face. "I was waiting for that," he said, and then ducked his head again. Except now his mouth met her throat instead of her lips, and she felt his tongue dart out to taste her skin.

She understood now. He was going at her pace, waiting until she asked for more. No rush, no pressure—she controlled everything that happened, could speed up or slow down or stop completely if she wanted.

_I love you, Vasily. I'll have to learn how to say that in russian._

She gasped, and her body arched into his without thinking. He traced a damp path down the column of her throat, slowly pulling away the collar of her shirt to gain access to her collarbone. She shifted under him, feeling her body begin to quiver again, but for a reason other than fear. Naomi did not want him to stop.

_You're in control,_ she thought again. What was the next step? She wasn't sure of that, but what she _did _know was that her PT shirt was getting in the way.

Naomi grabbed the hem of her shirt and tugged upwards, breaking Vaz's attention on her skin for a moment before she pulled it over her head, tossing it somewhere behind her. He looked down at her body, now only covered by a bra, and she felt a shudder go through him. _"Bozhe moi,"_ he muttered, and she watched his throat convulse in another swallow.

She giggled. Whatever he'd said, it sounded encouraging. She reached up and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him back down. He groaned and went to the skin of her stomach, pressing his mouth to her body, far less gentle than before.

"More," she whispered to him, her back arching. "_More."_

* * *

Naomi had her leg thrown over his waist, facing him as she traced circles on his chest. She looked sleepy and content—the happiest he'd ever seen her. It took off years of stress and worry etched on her face, and made her look painfully beautiful in the near non-existent light.

"Vasily," she murmured, giving him a quick kiss. "I didn't know."

"Didn't know what?" he asked, and gave her a kiss of his own. He couldn't help himself—for the first time he'd been allowed to let himself feel the overwhelming urge to touch her, and now he couldn't stop. "Your skin is so soft, _solnishko,"_ he told her, letting his hand drift over the curve of her waist and up her ribs.

"I never knew… it would feel so good," she confessed, a blush colouring her pale skin.

He smiled. "It only gets better. The first few times it will hurt. Did I hurt you?" He'd asked her before, when he'd first joined with her, but her only response had been an incoherent shake of her head, urging him to continue. The thought made his heart speed up. She'd been so eager, so excited, and he'd had trouble keeping his head on straight during it.

"It was nothing, not compared to everything else," she assured him. "Does it… hurt for you?"

He laughed softly. "No, far from it." Vaz pulled a blade of grass from her hair. It looked almost silver in the light of the Atrium's moon, and he wondered if he should find another nickname for her. She always did love the stars.

"Did you..." she trailed off, looking away. "Did I do everything okay?"

The grin threatened to split his face, and he grabbed her chin, pulling her eyes back to his. "You couldn't have been more wonderful, Naomi." It was the truth—he'd never felt more connected to someone, to _anyone,_ before. Not even Chrissie. Sex had always just been simply that—sex, a way to pass the time before jumping into hell again. He'd never made love to a woman he loved, _truly_ loved, and now he couldn't get enough.

Her smile was beaming, his nickname becoming more fitting with each passing second. No, he decided, she definitely reminded him of sunshine. "I was… a bit rough, though," she said, blushing again. She traced a crescent mark on his shoulder, where she'd drawn blood in a moment of passion. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It..." He looked at her, frowning. How could he explain it to someone who's never been with anyone else, or felt anything remotely close to what she'd just experienced?

"It what?" She looked worried at his expression, her voice growing more quiet.

"I just don't know how to explain. It isn't—I didn't mind it," he said slowly, unsure of his words.

"But I drew blood," she said, curiosity replacing worry.

"Sometimes, when you're with someone—being rough doesn't hurt. It… it can feel good."

Her head cocked, clearly not understanding. "How?"

He pressed his face to her throat, inhaling the smell of her, before he bit down gently on the skin of her neck. She flinched, and he placed a kiss over top of where he'd bitten her.

"Did it hurt?" he asked, biting her again, less gently this time.

"Yes," she whispered, a shiver going through her.

"But you liked it."

"Yes," she repeated, pulling away from him. "Why, though? Pain doesn't feel good, not _usually,"_ she added, brushing her fingers over the mark on her neck.

He shrugged. "I don't know, _solnishko._ It just does. Small things like that… they can make it more exciting."

She frowned, her Spartan way of thinking slowly rearranging before his eyes. "There is so much I don't know," Naomi whispered, her voice growing sad. "So much I never knew about."

"You can learn now," he murmured, fiddling with a stray strand of her hair. He didn't want her to be sad about what she'd missed, especially not right now. "I can show you."

She looked at him, her smile growing. This was a new smile from her—he decided it might be his favourite one. This one was filled with challenge and excitement… and arousal.

"Show me again, Vasya," she whispered, pulling him closer to her. Her leg tightened around his waist, pressing their hips intoxicatingly close together.

"Always, _moyo solnishko." _He leaned in to kiss her again, but she put a finger to his mouth, stopping him for a moment.

"Actually, just one more thing." Her mouth twisted, like she was debating on saying something or not. "Is this what you felt, all the time?"

"You mean wanting to touch you?" He bit the finger on his lips, and she grinned at him, poking him in the cheek with the damp digit.

"Yes. It feels like… like I never want to leave the Atrium."

He laughed. "I don't either. But, yes, in a way. It was hard to stop kissing you sometimes." Hard was an understatement, but he kept that to himself. "I don't regret waiting, Naomi. Not at all."

"I'd been afraid I wouldn't be able to do it," she murmured. "That I'd mess it all up, or get scared and push you away… which I've been doing already."

He scooped up her hand in his. "You aren't alone, _solnishko._ I'm here, whenever you need me. Even if that means you have to keep me at arm's length while I pant after you like a dog—" She laughed at his comment, and he returned the smile. "I will be with you."

"Vasya?"

"Mmm?" he hummed, letting his eyes close for a moment and simply listening to her talk.

"How do you say 'I love you' in russian?"

"_Ya lyublyu tebya."_

She frowned. "I think 'I love you' is a lot easier to say."

He shook his head and opened his eyes. "Russian is better, more flexible. Harder to learn for _e__nglishmen,"_ he stressed, his accent drawing out. "But worth it."

"_Ya leo-bl-yoo teb-ya,"_ she said slowly, rolling her tongue dramatically in her mouth.

He laughed. "_Ya lyublyu tebya, moyo solnishko."_

She snuggled into his shoulder. "Sounds much prettier when you say it."

"Russian is not _pretty,"_ he corrected, feigning indignation. "Russian is _strong."_

She giggled. "Sorry, it sounds _strong_ when you say it."

_"Da._ You learn quickly."

She kissed him again, long and slow. When she pulled away, his heart was pounding against his ribs.

"You were going to show me something?" she asked, tracing the dark hairs on his chest.

He pressed his mouth to her ear, and she shivered when he spoke. "Lie on your back again, _solnishko, _and I will."

* * *

**AN: **My sources for russian were largely based in Google Translate and Yahoo Answers, so if there are any mistakes, please yell at me for them and I will fix them. _Also,_ this was totally inspired by Heat in Freezing's _Autonomy_ and Cor Tenebrae's _Ride of the Valkyrie, _so if you haven't read those yet, I highly recommend them.

(PS - I got my story cover from spacetelescope images / opo9926a / )


	2. Part II

**AN: **I hadn't intended on this being more than just a one-shot, but Heat in Freezing managed to convince me to write more of this, so voila. If this gets any more installments it will likely just be fluff with light amounts of plot thrown in. Also, changed the rating to M because of more sexy stuff. Enjoy!

* * *

**Stars and Sunlight - Part II**

In Vaz's experience, being in the military and being a virgin were almost always mutually exclusive, _especially _ for ODSTs. Sexual technique and experience bordered on being a requirement to get in. He'd adopted that same attitude, since sex was supposed to be nothing more than a fabulous time waster, and teaching someone anything meant you were eating up that precious time.

It seemed, however, he'd grossly under-appreciated the commodity of inexperience, and had first-hand evidence to support that.

"_Ah."_

She looked up at the noise he'd made, her hand freezing. "What? Did I do something wrong?"

"Just... not so tight, hm?" he suggested, and her fingers eased up in their grip. He wondered how many bruises he'd have by tomorrow morning.

Being careful not to strangle his member, she continued to inspect him. A vast curiosity lingered in her eyes, roaming around every part of his body. She'd been shy at first, but after they'd made love a second time that had all but evaporated, and now Naomi had dedicated a good fifteen minutes on exploring the differences of the male form—particularly his southern bits.

"You've never seen a naked man before?" he asked, his breath hitching when her fingers danced over the length of him. She was half-lying on one of his legs, propping herself up in the grass with an elbow while she looked him over. He tried not to think about the fact that her face was inches away from his groin, but if anything her innocent study of his body only made it worse.

"Plenty," she said, not looking away from her observations. "Just not this close." Her other hand smoothed under his balls, making his legs twitch. Even if she was oblivious to what her touch was doing to him, he felt himself quickly hardening in her palms.

A small grin crept up her face, and she met his eyes. "Again?"

"You're making it difficult to stay relaxed," he replied, his breathing getting more shallow.

"I hardly touched you," she scoffed, though he heard a hint of genuine confusion. She really _was_ inexperienced, but to his delight she seemed eager to rectify that.

He sat up and pressed her into the grass, switching their positions. She blew out a breath, her pupils dilating at the sudden change of pace, and he let a hand slide over her stomach and stop at her thigh.

"I'll show you," he murmured, and slid a finger inside of her. She gasped and grabbed his arms, her eyes widening. His thumb began tracing wide circles around her clitoris, and when she arched off the ground he slipped another finger inside.

"I hardly touched you," he said teasingly in her ear, and he heard her growl in response. Her hips moved against his hand impatiently when his fingers went still, so he continued with earnest.

In a few moments she had her legs wrapping tightly around his back and her hands digging into his arms. Her eyes had glazed over and she shifted her head back and forth in the grass, letting out the occasional moan. She peaked quickly in his arms, rising almost fully off of the grass and arching hard into his body, letting out soft cries and gasps of breath as he lead her through her climax. He felt his cock stiffen further when she contracted around his fingers, until she finally collapsed back onto the ground, breathing heavily.

"Vasily..." she panted, wetting her dry lips with the tip of her tongue and meeting his eyes.

He leaned down and kissed her. To his surprise she pressed back with her mouth urgently, threading her fingers into his hair and pulling him closer. He let his weight rest fully on her body, molding himself into her. Although she was corded with slim, tightly-packed muscle, she was enticingly soft. Especially her skin.

A hand snaked between them and grabbed his member, bringing out a strangled groan from him.

"I want..." she whispered, still breathless. "I want to do it again."

When she released her grip, he pressed into her and she cried out again in his arms.

* * *

She'd never been addicted to anything in her life—not smoking, or drinking, or food. The closest she could come to reliance on something external would be he compulsion to fight, to _win._ And that was productive, at least. And it was an easy urge to satisfy.

Now, though… how the hell did people function? She could barely keep her hands off Vaz, and he seemed equally as impaired. There was a small, ever-present adrenaline high running through her, just enough to keep her pulse above normal and make her feel giddy. Since lying down in the grass with him that evening—it felt like an eternity had passed since then—they'd been in constant physical contact, even when they weren't joined.

Her head was tucked into the small divot where his shoulder met his neck, his arms wrapped around her. She could hear him breathing softly, the small rumble of it against her ear, and it sounded like he was on the verge of sleep.

Naomi decided to follow him, dozing in his embrace. It was almost nicer than making love—it was quiet, and calm, and safe. No burning need to do or say anything, no feeling like her heart was about to explode out of her chest. Those had all been wonderful sensations, but the aftermath of it was when she truly felt at peace. Whatever else was happening around them, whatever orders or duties she had, this moment belonged to them and them alone, and the thought of going back to Spartan Town and pretending this hadn't happened made her eyes prick with tears.

They didn't really sleep. She drifted in and out of consciousness, occasionally looking up at him and planting a soft kiss on his mouth, which he returned if he was awake. Sometimes she felt his fingers trace circles on her back, a light, contented hum rumbling in his chest, and he'd murmur her name into her hair before drifting off again.

When her alarm went off to tell her third shift had ended, a ball of ice formed in her stomach. Vaz jerked at the sound and he immediately sat up, rubbing his face and looking alert in a way only soldiers could accomplish.

"Naomi?"

She blinked and followed his example, then grabbed the comm she'd tossed carelessly in the grass—something that embarrassed her; that was UNSC property she'd mishandled—and shut off the alarm.

_0400\. Drills start for Tempest in half an hour._ She almost wished she hadn't told them to drill early—_no. What I __**really **__wish is that they'd act like real Spartans._

"I have to get back," she whispered, feeling a small lump forming in her throat. She looked at him, watching his hazel eyes fill with disappointment as he realised the time.

"I have to get back too," he murmured. He sighed, and grabbed her hand. "Otherwise Mal will notice and I'll never hear the end of it."

She shuffled over to him and tucked herself into his chest, trying to soak up the last bits of his warmth before she had to part ways with him. She felt horrible that she was dreading her responsibilities—she'd been given orders, and it wasn't her place to sulk about them—but thinking about spending the entire day without him filled her with dread. Hell, an _hour_ seemed a test of her patience.

He seemed to sense her reluctance, and brushed a hand through her hair. "Don't worry, _solnishko,_ we'll see each other again tonight."

"Where? Here?" she asked, pulling away from him just enough to look in his eyes.

He nodded. "I think this should be the safest spot. We might have to go down to the maintenance tunnels, though, if anyone shows up here." He frowned. "Not quite as nice, but more private."

Naomi nodded. "Okay," she breathed, then slowly untangled herself from him. He stood up with her, grabbing her uniform and handing it to her.

"Might have to clean it a little," he said, grinning at her. "Polish off the grass stains."

She nodded and wordlessly put it on. Time to be Petty Officer Naomi-010 again, not... not _solnishko._ The thought of the nickname closed her throat again.

She was done before Vaz, and watched him as he shoved into his pants and shirt. She noticed a smudge of green on one shoulder, and brushed off the bits of dirt clinging to it. He turned and looked at her, easily seeing through her carefully neutral expression.

"Naomi."

She met his gaze, trying not to look too forlorn.

"It's alright," he said, grabbing her chin. "The day will be over before you know it."

She nodded, not believing him in the slightest but grateful that he was trying to cheer her up nonetheless. He kissed her one last time, which was over far too fast for her liking, before they fully parted and he left the atrium, heading back to the ODST barracks.

_One day,_ she said to herself. _I can handle one day._

That had been two weeks ago.

She'd heard about his deployment during lunch break that day. He'd been assigned a recon op on a pirate-state planet infested with Jackal scavengers—a counter-contraband operation with full authorisation to engage the enemy. By the time she'd learned about it, he was already on the ground. No time for a goodbye.

It had been nothing short of agony, the waiting, for a number of reasons. Chiefly, she wasn't able see Vaz. Or Mal, either, since he'd been sent with him, though she supposed that was a blessing. They'd look out for each other. The few friends she had were away on a mission deemed too unimportant to waste Spartan fireteams on. She'd gone to bed each shift holding on to the memory of that night; the smell of grass mingled with sweat and the smell of his body; the feel of his mouth and hands on her skin; the closeness and the warmth. Her thin blanket and hard cot was a poor substitute in comparison.

And then, there was the uncomfortable heat in her belly. She had started taking birth control, the safest way to kickstart her meandering libido, and now that she was sexually active she couldn't very well stop taking it. The first few months had been confusing, her emotional response to everything heightened and a need for physical contact making itself known. It had started out with noticing Vaz, _really_ noticing him in a way she never had before; the hard planes of his shoulders under his PT gear, the lean muscle of his arms and thighs, his ass in a uniform. She didn't know _why _she'd enjoyed staring at him—well, she knew _now,_ at least—but it had slowly become a routine thing and now she couldn't see him in any other light. It was both annoying and exciting to be sidetracked by something as simple as the sight of someone else's body.

Then, the odd heat in the junction of her legs that felt like menstrual cramps, but far more hot and distracting. She'd slid a shy hand down between her legs a few times after lights out, but had been lost on what to do and had given up after a few frustrating minutes, resigning herself to sleep in discomfort. She certainly hadn't been able to achieve anything close to what Vaz had done with his hands.

And now… now she was here, left wanting and achy with him gone. It was a near-constant thing, and she was in a rather bad mood because of it. At least none of the other Spartan-IVs bothered her again.

_You better hurry up and come back, Vasily. I can't handle much more of this._

* * *

"_Otvali, suka, blyad!"_

"Yeah, what he said, cunts!" Mal piled on, slipping under the destroyed Warthog to reload his rifle. Vaz's mud-caked boot was a few inches from his face before he stood up again, unloading on the bird-like Jackals and grinning when several fell under their rain of bullets.

Almost two weeks of _nothing_, culminating in a small skirmish with some pirates. Typical time flow for this sort of mission, and he was glad to at least be doing _something _other than just watching aliens through a long-range scope and pissing in a bottle. They'd been scouting, trying to figure out where the hell the Jackals kept hiding before finally finding the small cave system the birds had been working out of. He'd wanted to be absolutely sure of the location before any offensive movement, otherwise the birdies could call in some friends and then shit would hit the fan.

It was a small base, as pirate hideouts went, with only a few dozen of the Jackals in total spread thinly throughout the several narrow caves they'd dug out. Once in, the squad had found scavenged and mostly only half-working UNSC equipment, along with the totaled Hog they were ducking behind. He'd checked that it'd been drained of gas before deciding to use it as a shield, of course.

Vaz collapsed beside him, heavy breathing coming through his comm system. "They're retreating towards the exit."

"Bigger pussies than the hole their mothers pushed them out of! On me!" He sent an advance signal to the other eight ODSTs in the squad once he confirmed there was no more fire. Pushing away from the vehicle he did a quick sweep with his rifle, watching the tunnel at the far end of the cave and seeing the last of the birds retreating back outside.

"Kill the rest, then we'll find their cargo," he ordered. "There's only six contacts left. Should be done by lunchtime, ladies and gentlemen."

He was right. Easy-peasy. Three hours later they were loading up in a Pelican next to the supply shipment the Jackals had hijacked, every single one of the aliens lying in the dirt oozing bodily fluids. He wanted desperately to take his helmet off and scratch at the growth of hair covering his face, but that'd have to wait until they were back safe on _Infinity._

Vaz sat down heavily beside him, leaning into the hard seat and strapping in for take-off. The movements of the others were precise but slow, all of them clearly exhausted and in want of a shower and proper bed. After giving everyone a verbal pat on the back on the team frequency, he switched to private comms with the russian.

"Soooo..."

"Shut it."

_So that's how it's gonna be. _"Very snippy. That's _shut it, Sergeant_ to you, Corporal Beloi."

Vaz didn't reply. Mal hadn't been able to conceive of an even _grumpier _Vaz than he normally was, but the russian had reached a new record high of crabbiness. "Don't worry," Mal said, ignoring the brown-green glare staring at him through his helmet's interior camera feed. "Sure you'll cheer up next time you see your _slosh-niko."_

"_Mudak,"_ Vaz muttered. "And it's..." He sighed and let his head rest on the back of the seat. "Never mind. I'm too tired to tell you how to speak properly."

"You still didn't tell me what the hell happened with you guys," he insisted. At least Vaz was talking now. "I saw those marks on your back when you were changing into gear. Unless Naomi was pretending you were a scratching post—"

"The hell do you think happened?"

"Are you too _shy_ to talk about _The Deed?"_

Another non-answer from Vaz. As much as he _didn't_ want to picture him and Naomi going at it, the russian's silence on it was weird. Usually Vaz told him about any hook-ups he had in great detail, a courtesy that Mal reciprocated with grinning succor.

Mal made a kissing noise at him. "Just keep it wrapped up. I don't think a pregnant Spartan would go down well." He grinned. "Or maybe she already _has_ gone do—"

"Shut up," Vaz snarled. "Don't talk about her like that."

"Like what? A woman? She _is_ a chick, last I checked. Or have you found something out that I don't know about?"

There was a low growl on the other end. Or maybe it was just comm static. "Don't say anything to her when we get back."

"Don't worry," he said, more serious. "However weird it is to picture, I'm glad you guys finally did it." Very glad, actually. Dev owed him a significant debt on the matter now that they'd hooked up. He'd keep that to himself, though. "You're practically married now." He felt like offering a fist-bump to show his support of Vaz getting laid, but decided the russian probably wasn't in the mood.

He checked to make sure everyone was secure, including the cargo, and sent a green status to the pilot. Mal took the few minutes of calm to doze, knowing they'd have a hell of a debrief once they got back to the Big Boat. A smile crept up his face when he thought about a warm meal and hot shower. Maybe they'd even get a few days of leave before they ran training ops again.

* * *

A two-hour debrief, followed by a long shower and the first real meal he'd had in two weeks. Once he was finished with all the preamble and making himself at least somewhat presentable, he'd go find Naomi.

He'd missed her more than he thought he could miss a person. Especially after they'd spent the night in the atrium, and remembering the crestfallen look in her eyes when he left her there. He'd wished that he could've said goodbye to her, but as soon as the wake-up call came they were in full gear and being shoved into sky-coffins, as Mal called them.

_Mal._ God, it was a mistake telling the man. He'd been in a damn good mood coming back to the barracks, and had told his friend more than he should. It was different with Naomi; she wasn't a hot lay to brag about, or even a regular girlfriend. She was… well, just Naomi. He wasn't sure how else to describe her. At least the bastard had eased up on talking about it. Mal had been almost more interested in them having sex than Vaz was.

Now he was clean-shaven, showered, and fed. They'd waded through all of the red tape, mainly being told by brass how classified it was, and he was free to do as he pleased for the rest of the day. It was only 1530, and third shift wouldn't begin until 2200. Naomi was likely still running through War Games with the Spartans. And Helljumpers weren't usually welcomed with open arms in Spartan Town.

Vaz sighed. Maybe he'd catch up on some sleep. He sure as hell needed it.

His comm beeped.

_India-level starboard maintenance shaft. _

_\- N_

Well. Maybe he wouldn't have time to sleep after all. His heart jumped when he read the words again, then excused himself from the mess table. Mal gave him a knowing look, but he ignored him in favour of keeping an even pace. He couldn't very well sprint to the maintenance tunnels.

It was a test of patience to walk there, call a tram, and then sit and wait while it travelled to the requested deck. She'd picked a good level - I Deck was used for cleaning equipment storage, repair, and distribution. Not a lot of personnel moving around to catch them.

He hadn't done this in a while. ODSTs were usually less secretive about sleeping around, settling for a spot close-by and fairly out of the way, mainly near freezers and orbital pods. And with him and Naomi only now reaching this stage in the relationship, he was a few years behind with the sneaking-and-sleeping-around deal.

According to his watch he got there in six minutes, but the wait had felt triple that. He hopped off the tram before the door fully opened and looked around, wondering where Naomi would be hiding.

Someone grabbed his hand from behind a broken cryo-pod—maybe he _would _be fucking behind one of them again after all—and then he was suddenly lifted off the floor and crushed against a warm body.

"Vasily," she whispered into his ear, then put him down. She kissed him before he could say anything, and he had just enough time to register her mouth against his when she pulled away again. "I missed you."

He caught his breath, grinning. "I missed you too, _solnishko."_

"Come with me," she said, tugging his hand and pulling him under a low bulkhead, weaving them around several massive containers filled with sanitation spray and disinfectant. The deck was mostly dormant, with only secondary lighting on. He could hear people working in the distance, echoing through the cargo lot, but if they kept quiet they wouldn't be found.

She arrived at a small break in the barrels and containers, a perfectly square space lined with cargo. He figured they'd removed some equipment from here and hadn't bothered to move supplies into the empty space again. Either way, it was more than secluded enough.

Naomi brought them into the centre of the space before she turned around and kissed him again, hard and insistent. He was surprised by the urgency in her movements, especially when she began tugging his shirt off.

"Impatient?" he asked, smiling as she pulled off his shirt and tossed it on the ground. She responded by shoving him against a container and molding her body to his, pressing her hips into his groin. He groaned and grabbed her waist, his fingers digging into her skin, now not quite so concerned with being rough. She grabbed a handful of his short hair, their lips moving so roughly together that he occasionally felt her teeth scrape against his mouth.

He quickly undid the seal at her back holding the Spartan readiness suit together and rolled it down her arms. She let go of him just long enough to pull her hands out of it before going back to grabbing at his shoulders and head, and he slid a hand up her waist until he reached a breast, shaping his fingers over the soft skin.

She gasped into his mouth and pulled them down onto the metal flooring. He landed heavily on top of her before she rolled and switched their positions, straddling his waist and grinding into him.

Half-naked, with her blonde hair flowing down her back in waves, and looking at him with something approaching predatory hunger, he decided that slogging through dirt for two weeks was worth it if this was his welcome-home party.

She fiddled with his zipper, undoing his pants and tugging them and his underwear down just far enough to allow her access to his member. When she wrapped her fingers eagerly around him he almost came then and there.

_God, it was worth it._


	3. Part III

**AN: **I swore this would be the last installment, but I'm having _way_ too much fun writing this. So here's some more fluff! Mostly set-up for the next chapter. Enjoy! (Small warning: _lots_ of swearing in this one. ODSTs have some serious potty mouth.)

* * *

**Stars and Sunlight - Part III**

He didn't dream a lot. Usually, he was so exhausted at the end of the day that he passed out in his bunk and lost however many hours in oblivion before he had to wake up again. It was a pretty decent escape from reality. It could even feel like a good high, in a way. And sleeping wasn't illegal contraband on a military vessel.

Sometimes, though, he did dream. When things were slow, waiting in between drops or assignments, he had time to think, and thoughts followed him into the occasional nap. It was mostly boring shit, or about falling out of the sky. Sometimes nightmares, and he'd wake up with a phantom pain in his jaw running the length of his scar and a shaky feeling. And on rare occasions, he dreamt of something peaceful, like his babushka's kitchen, or watching hockey with a beer in his hand, or a naked woman. Or Naomi. He always enjoyed those dreams.

Tonight he dreamt of her. He could see her face, pale and happy. She was talking to him. The words were the nonsense language of dreams, but the sound of her voice was soothing. They weren't doing anything, just sitting in a park, with the night sky clear and stark overhead, talking. Peaceful. She would point at stars and smile, her eyes getting a far away look in them, like she wanted to follow the light of the tiny dots in the sky.

"Pssst!"

Right in his ear. He rolled over, trying to ignore the sound, already losing sight of her, the dream collapsing in his mind. _No no, keep going, come on. Fuck off, whoever you are._

"Vaz!"

His arm flew out from under the covers, and his fist found something solid. It was a half-hearted punch, but it still connected with a shoulder.

"Ow—how does Naomi sleep with your ass? You're damn—"

"The fuck do you want?" He opened his eyes, and saw Mal glaring back at him, rubbing his shoulder.

"Get up and read this. Dev's here too." He saw Lian standing behind a crouched Mal in the near non-existent light. He closed his eyes again when Mal waved a datapad in his face.

"Fuck you, and no. Go back to sleep." He rolled over and pulled his sheet over his head. Whatever it was, it wasn't more important than sleep.

"Grumpy katsap," Mal muttered.

"You don't even know what a _kak tzap_ is, idiotic."

"I heard Dev call you that once. Sounds derogatory. And it's _idiot,_ dumbass. Learn the language already."

"Vaz, this is important," Dev whispered. "Get up."

"Shut the fucking fuck up!" somebody hissed from the bunk above him. He took a deep breath and threw off the covers. Vaz glared at the two ODSTs standing in front of him, their faces lit up with the dim light of a datapad. He checked his watch and slipped his boots on. _It's 0630. Shift ends in three hours. They couldn't wait three damn hours?_

He shoved Mal out of his way and lead them both out of the sleeping quarters. He waited for them both to be outside and for the door to close to start talking again.

"What, _what_ is so important?" He crossed his arms, already missing his bed. It was cold in the hallways, and he was only wearing a t-shirt. He hoped they didn't encounter any patrols or enlisted walking around. He wasn't in the mood to explain and did _not_ want to do any extra drills because he was out of his bunk in the middle of shift.

"We're all getting transferred," Mal said, handing him the pad he'd been holding. He squinted at it, rubbing his eyes.

He read aloud, squinting harder at the screen. "Due to the... det—derot—deter—"

"Sound it out," the brit encouraged, and he glared at him.

"_Deterior-ating_," he said carefully. "xeno-political mission undertaken by the UNSC _Infinity_, the following personnel will be…." He frowned as he read the rest. "Moving? Again? We just—" He cut off for a big yawn. "—just got here. And we were on the ground for most of it." _And we're being transferred because of a lack of clearance? Causing civil war among the Elites with CINCONI isn't clearance enough?_

Dev shrugged. "Dunno. Guess Oz doesn't want us going into deep space chasing after the doctor. We were only here to scout it all out anyway."

"Why though? Didn't she want Halsey dead?" Who better than them? Serin had given them plenty evidence to hate the doctor. Why stop when so close?

"Maybe she's got something more important for us?" Mal suggested. "Wants us close. Who knows with ONI spooks. But—read the reassignment. It's in _three weeks._ That means three weeks of leave!"

He looked up from the transfer order. "You woke me up to tell me we have leave time? This couldn't wait?"

"'Course mate—I just got the memo a few minutes ago, wanted to tell you. And now you and Naomi don't have to sneak around to—" Mal stopped when Vaz glared death signals at him and waved his hand. "Relax, Dev knows already. And she isn't being grumpy about it either."

"Who the fuck else did you tell?" he hissed.

"No one," Lian said soothingly, putting a hand on his arm. "It's alright, Vaz. I think it's _so cute,_ by the w—"

"I'm going back to sleep," he growled.

"Hey, wait—"

"_What?"_

"Christ, you're pissy," Mal muttered. "_But_, just pack your shit quick. Order's effective as soon as shift rolls over. We're off the boat in less than four hours. Sounds like a no-delay type deal, and there's _a lot _of names on this list. I don't want shitty seats for the flight out."

"You didn't wake Naomi? Just me?"

"I'm not fucking crazy. I'd get court martialed for sneaking into Spartan Town. Plus their CO is one scary bitch. _And_, Naomi isn't slow. She'll liberate a whole damn planet before you're done brushing your teeth in the morning."

"Go fuck yourself. Good night."

"I love you too, Vaseline."

He gave the brit a parting glare for the nickname and a nod to Dev, before hurrying back to his bed. He fell onto his bunk, boots still on, and tried to recoup the wasted time he spent talking to Mal.

* * *

"I bloody woke you up early to tell you to be ready, and now—"

"If you hadn't woke me up, my alarm I wouldn't have slept through," he hissed, shoving his socks into his back.

"You really need to work on your english, mate. It's like the fourth most used language in the UNSC." Mal leaned into the wall beside his friend's bunk. "Wait, no. Third. I think it's third. Either way, it isn't cute anymore. Women like accents, but only if you—"

"Are you guys ready?" Naomi poked her head into the sleeping quarters, almost going unheard over Mal speaking. His mood sprang back to life, but he felt no less tired. Between sneaky around with Naomi and random drops, his sleeping schedule wasn't exactly stable.

"I am, ma'am!" The brit snapped to, making a show of displaying his neatly-packed bag at his feet.

"Dev's packing stuff away in the carrier already. We'll be leaving in fifteen. Vasily?"

"Almost—done. There." He strained to zip up his bag, which had been packed in the messiest way possible, but managed to keep it closed. He slung it over his shoulder and stood up.

Naomi flashed her rare, bright smile and nodded. "Good. I won't have to save you two seats again."

"Pssh. All the OFs sit together anyway. Worst case I sit beside some cornflake." Mal nudged Vaz as they headed out. "Either way they'll be sunnier than you."

_You woke me up to get good seats, _he mentally thundered, but decided to drop it. Geffen didn't need any more ammunition for his rants about how sour-puss Vaz was.

Although they weren't late, it would have been good to save seats. When they arrived for a bag drag and paperwork check, he noticed the leftover seats were all spread apart.

"The fuck?" Mal whispered. "These are all newbies on board. I guess Osman thinks it's funny to catch a boat with boots."

"They've completed a tour, at least. Won't be too bad. Probably weren't cleared to deal with the _politicheskie katastrofy_ with Halsey, either."

"We got a Spartan, though. Shitheads will be all over that." His eyes lit up. "Maybe we can still get good seats."

Naomi frowned down at him. "Don't—"

"Hey! Listen up!" Mal took two steps onto the carrier and glared at the closest marine with an empty seat beside her. "You know who that is?" he pointed to Naomi.

The marine shook her head, eyes wide. At least with all the new recruits, Mal happened to be one of the top ranking personnel on board.

"Didn't fucking think so. That's a _Spartan,_ and she's gonna need some room. So go grab another seat!" He glared at the two across from her. "You too, boots!"

"_Bozhe moi," _he muttered, and heard Naomi sigh as she moved to take a seat.

"You're ridiculous," she said as Mal sat across from them. He threw a leg over the seat next to him, waiting for Dev.

"You're welcome. Now you get to sit next to your russian love muffin." He made kissy noises until a marine looked at him, and switched to a proper Sergeant face. "Something to say, marine?"

"No sir!"

"Good." He settled into his hard plastic chair and strapped in. A moment later Dev appeared and plunked down in her seat, looking wildly annoyed that she couldn't drive, and buckled in.

"When's our stop?" Vaz turned to Naomi, who already had a distant look to her gaze. She usually spaced out during low periods of action, and he knew she liked quiet whenever they took off.

"Five hours until we touch down on Gannick 22, then a debrief with Osman over comms, and we're free." She gave his hand a quick squeeze from under the harness and then settled back into her chair, keeping her eyes to the ceiling.

He did a quick sweep with his eyes around the cabin of the aircraft, noticing how many of the occupants were giving Naomi shifty glances. There was nothing to be done about it, but he knew how much it bothered her. He contented himself on squeezing her hand back and closing his eyes, and in minutes he was fast asleep.

* * *

A big difference she noticed between Spartans and ODSTs was the latter's innate ability to sleep wherever a flat surface presented itself. Vaz, Mal, and Dev had all passed out in their seats during the flight, and she'd allowed herself a smile when she'd looked over at Mal to see Lian's head resting on his shoulder. If any of them had to sit idle in one place for more than half an hour, they started to doze. She'd even seen other ODSTs catching a snooze in a pod right before a drop. She'd slept in some odd places herself, but Spartans tended to be more focused. Fighting was the one thing they all excelled at, and she never wanted to miss one moment of the action.

"God, my neck is sore," Dev muttered, rubbing at the base of her skull. "You make a shitty pillow, Geffen."

"Don't let Phyllis hear you say that. He'll think we did something inappropriate."

She scoffed, grabbing her bag and shouldering it in one smooth motion. "Please. You're not my type anyway."

Mal made a show of being horribly offended, and they proceeded to argue about the subjectivity of male beauty. Naomi tuned out the words, but entertained herself with watching them make increasingly lewd hand gestures during their discussion while they all waited for clearance to leave. Vaz was beside her, also content with watching the two argue. Every once and a while she'd sneak a glance at him and he'd give her a lopsided grin before both turning their attention back to the other ODSTs.

Three entire weeks of leave. To do _whatever_ she wanted. Naomi couldn't quite wrap her head around that. Dev had already planned out her shore leave, and was practically bouncing with excitement to see Phillips, who flew all they way out to Gannick to see her. Mal had mentioned something about getting really drunk, and didn't seem concerned with plans beyond that. But they both had something in mind, at least. They had a goal in mind. She struggled to even think of what to do after being debriefed. She could barely picture the big, populous cities the planet had to offer.

"You alright?"

She flinched and looked down at Vaz. "What?"

"You looked like you were thinking really hard about something." He smiled. "Your face was scrunching all up."

"All scrunching up," she corrected him teasingly. "And I'm fine. Just wondering what to do with all our free time. I don't even remember what a big city looks like."

He raised a brow. "I have an idea of what we could do."

Her face flushed, and she grabbed his free hand, suddenly needing to touch some part of him. He turned back to look around for an officer to check their paperwork again, and she drifted back into thought.

Her brain chemistry was all mixed up now. She began to wonder if the hormone suppression in the Spartans had been intentional, because it was _so distracting. _She hadn't gone one day without some steamy thought entering her mind since she began taking those damn pills. Maybe that was why Spartans were so focused—they weren't constantly distracted by the sight of someone in a well-fitting uniform.

Processing out took a while, but she didn't mind. It gave her time to figure out what she wanted to do with her free time. Last time she was granted shore leave she'd chose to stay on board the _Port Stanley. _Had Vasily not been beside her, she might've done the same again and remained on _Infinity._

Osman's debriefing went comparatively quickly, in a secure room inside Gannick 22's main naval base. This was an off-the-books debriefing, at least in the eyes of the Navy, and they all reported back on what they'd seen and heard on the UNSC's flagship.

"Palmer seems pretty adamant about catching Halsey, ma'am," Mal said, standing at a proper parade rest. Even as familiar as he was with Serin, he still seemed nervous around her, even over commsI. "She starts twitching whenever you talk about the doctor."

"And Lasky?"

"Doesn't say much. He's a pretty quiet guy about that kind of stuff."

Naomi cleared her throat and Osman's eyes flicked to her, her face superimposed on the back wall of the dark room. "I overheard a small argument Captain Lasky had with Commander Palmer, ma'am. He still sounds doubtful about killing her, but knows she must be contained. I believe he understands how dangerous Dr. Halsey is."

Osman digested the information, and in the pause, Dev spoke up.

"Not sure if this is above my pay grade, but: why'd we get transferred? _Infinity_ and her entire support fleet is mobilizing to get Halsey back."

"Exactly. I don't want you near the action. I have eyes enough on board to watch them shoot their way into 'Mdama's stronghold. You four are most important when there is a lull in the action. The war is over, and what happens to morale and public opinion is far more important—and dangerous—than any war zone." She sat back in her chair. Naomi noted that she looked uncomfortable. Whatever leftover effects she had from her failed augmentations, they weren't pleasant.

"Shouldn't you have a team of _psikhologii_ for that?" Vaz asked. "I don't know anything about sociology or military morale, besides there being a lot of mutinies when it's low."

"People don't trust psychologists on a warship. And neither do I, frankly. ODSTs are much more natural-looking—"

"Have you seen Vaz's face?" Mal cut in.

—And Spartan IIs are a subject of awe, nothing more," Serin continued, her voice a touch louder this time, and Mal sank low into his boots. "So take this time to enjoy, and be ready to observe again. I want more details next time."

The wall went dark without ceremony or a farewell, and Naomi saw Mal shiver in her periphery. Vaz and Dev relaxed, too.

"Is it just me or has she gotten a _thousand _times more scary since her big promotion?" the brit asked, looking nervous. "Her face plastered on a big wall doesn't help much either."

With debriefing over, Dev immediately left to catch a taxi, following the directions Phillips sent her to the hotel he'd booked for them. Naomi tried not to think too hard on what they'd be doing when they finally reunited.

Mal milled around, tagging along with them as they entered New Nairobi by cab. Naomi could tell he was getting on Vaz's nerves, but she didn't mind just yet. It was probably difficult for him; he was the only one in their group without someone to spend time with, and she knew that his usual MO was to go out with Vaz and drink. She'd heard numerous stories of their time on leave, most of them layered with _way_ too much information for her tastes. She knew ODSTs liked to party, but learning about their sexual habits wasn't something she was particularly interested in.

_Well, anybody's besides Vaz,_ she thought, smiling faintly.

"Where to first, lovebirds?" Mal asked, grabbing the back of Naomi's headrest.

Vaz frowned at his friend, then shot a look at her. "Naomi? Have anything in mind?"

She shook her head. "No. Never really had shore leave. What do people do, usually? _Besides_ get drunk and sleep around," she added quickly.

The russian shrugged. "Visit friends and fam—" his mouth twisted, quickly changing gears. "Ah, go see movies, explore the planet, go on a tour?" The end of the sentence sounded like a question, and he looked uncertain.

She grinned. "You don't know either, do you?"

"'Cause we lot know how to party _proper._ No boring shit like touring a museum or reading books," Mal quipped. "I know! You could get a tattoo!"

"No," Vaz said immediately. "You know, a museum sounds nice. Haven't been to one since I was a kid."

"What kind of museum? How about one with dinosaurs?" Mal asked

"I thought you said museums are boring?"

"Dinosaurs are cool," he said defensively. "Probably no dino exhibits on an outer colony though. Unless they have alien dinosaurs. Shit, that actually sounds _fun."_

"I don't recall inviting you."

"Is no broblem," Mal replied, doing a terrible job of imitating his friend's accent. "I be tagging along anyvays."

"Can we find somewhere to put our things first?" she asked. "I don't want to carry around my clothes wherever we go. I stand out enough already."

Vaz broke away from his glaring contest with Mal and nodded. "Of course. According to the brochure they handed out, there's a lot of hotels in the outskirts of the city."

She watched the city come into view out of the window of the cab, content to let the two ODSTs figure out where they would be staying. It was night time in New Nairobi, but the light pollution from the skyscrapers gave the sky a predawn glow. The closer they got, the lighter it became, until she had to shield her eyes from the blaring neon signs. She even saw people outside wearing sunglasses to protect their eyes as they walked down the street.

"So…." she began. "What do you do? In a hotel, I mean? How do you get a room?"

Vaz shrugged. "It's pretty simple. Differs depending on the city or planet, but they usually give you a room number and an ID number to get in once you check in at the counter. It's private, too, so we can leave our stuff there without worrying about other people touching it."

"If you've got the cash you can even choose your room. Hey Naomi, how much does it pay to be a Spartan?" Mal asked. "Might be worth it to get the penthouse for a night or two if you can afford it."

"Pay?"

They both gave her a look. "You know, salary, benefits, all that shit."

She blinked. "I… don't know. I've never bought anything before."

"Well your banking stuff has to be set up at least." Mal held out his hand. "Let me see your comm. Should tell you what bank you're with."

She unlatched her watch and handed it to him. The brit fiddled with it for a moment after she unlocked it and then his eyes went wide at the screen that popped up.

"Jesus _Christ_ Naomi."

"What?"

"You've never touched your account before?"

"My account?"

"Your bank account. The UNSC deposits your pay into it."

She frowned. "No. Why?" She hadn't realised she'd even had one. Halsey must have set it all up for the Spartans when they were children.

"You've… you've got like _millions _of fucking credits," he said, and Vaz looked over his shoulder at Mal, now curious.

"They've split it up into different accounts, too. There's a juvenile account here, from like years ago… _fuck_, mate, I've never seen so much money!"

She felt unnerved from the gobsmacked looks they were giving her. "I'm guessing that's really good?"

"Hell yes it is! We are going to fucking _party."_


	4. Part IV

**AN: **This was _extremely _fun to write, even more so than the last chapter. Same language warnings on this one, plus some smut thrown in. Dunno if this is going to be the final installment or not, since I had a blast writing this. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

**Stars and Sunlight - Part IV**

The Bahari Hotel was the most expensive, top-of-the-line resort to stay at in the New Nairobi. True to its name, the massive building stood beside the sea, with dark sands lining one side of the hotel, and a lush, dense park on the other. It catered to the obscenely rich—the ones that had invested in the Inner Colonies, and then wartime materials when the Covenant arrived.

Two rugged ODSTs and a scarred Spartan were not amongst that class of people—and judging by the looks they got from the other patrons, it was a resented fact—and they'd entered a world Naomi had never knew existed, and wasn't sure she wanted to know. It was private, hush-hush, like dealing with ONI but much more trivial. Every human inconvenience was taken care of, every whim or desire.

She'd asked Doctor Halsey once what Heaven was. The woman had replied that it was whatever she wanted it to be—the place she felt most content, most safe. And now Naomi was getting a glimpse of civilian Nirvana, a place of bliss created by shocking amounts of money. It was not her definition of Heaven by any stretch, but she was content for the time being to visit another's.

And within this stranger's Promised Land, they owned the top floor of the hotel for three weeks.

"This couch is better than sex," Mal groaned, flopping over the side of it and dangling his feet over the back. "And did you see the bar? I've never seen so much alcohol."

The suite was _large._ It spanned across the whole top floor, and they even had a private elevator. Vaz had been doubtful at first, wary of her spending so much money, but she'd quieted his fears. She'd be in service for many more years to come, and judging by the deposit amounts in her account each month, she'd make it back relatively quickly.

Her ODST seemed to have no more doubts on that score when he finally saw the place they'd be staying in. With an uncharacteristic amount of enthusiasm, he explored the suite with his friend, revelling in all the things money could buy. They seemed particularly fixated on the kitchen, which had not one, but two fully stocked fridges, in addition to a beer fridge, as well as every other household appliance and a few others she'd never seen or heard of.

"Why would people ever leave their homes?" Vaz asked, opening up the left fridge. "There's fully made meals in here—you just have to heat them up."

"Did you see the floor plan of this place? _Two _indoor pools." Mal grabbed a beer from the fridge and opened it with the corner of the datapad he was holding and took a swig. "I'm so glad I stuck around you two. Naomi, you should take leave more often."

She smiled. "We need to call Dev and Phillips. They'll never forgive us if we don't invite them. And aren't there eight bedrooms in this place anyway? We'll have more than enough room."

"Only seven, unfortunately," Mal answered, scrolling through the minimap of the suite. "But I'm sure we'll survive. Christ," he added. "This place is so large we could go to opposite corners and never see one another. Fuck, they have a goddamn mini _bowling alley_ in here_._ I haven't even seen that yet."

"I've never gotten _alkanit _in a rich man's wet dream before," Vaz observed. He too grabbed a drink from the fridge, a darker frothy beer she'd seen him drink before and didn't like the taste of—although on his lips it wasn't so bad—and took a generous drink. He raised his can in the air, and Mal did the same without looking away from the floor plan. "_Na Zdrovie."_

"Nostrovia," Mal answered, taking another pull on his beer. He settled his arms against the counter and looked up at Naomi. "And what can I get you, gorgeous?"

She suppressed a blush at the comment. "I… don't know. I don't really like the taste of alcohol."

"Come on, everyone likes something."

Vaz somehow downed the rest of his beer in one go and grabbed another. "What about vodka?"

"It's made from potatoes. You _mash_ potatoes, you don't drink them. No," Mal answered. "You drink the shit they make out of grain. Much better."

"I don't like beer that much," Naomi said carefully. Both of them were staring at her now, having taken the task of finding her perfect drink very seriously. "And vodka isn't that nice, either." Vaz made a face and she smiled. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Not at all, _solnishko._ There are a lot of ways to get drunk." He took another pull. Binge drinking seemed to be their preference tonight. She had a feeling she'd be putting them both to bed if they didn't pass out on a couch.

"You like sweet stuff?" Mal asked. "What about margaritas?"

"Pfff—"

"Shut up for a minute," he said to the russian. He peered down the neck of his beer. "There's nothing wrong with them. You don't seem to like sour stuff."

"Dev said I should try tequila," she replied. It _sounded_ sweet, at least.

"Hell no," Mal said. "That shit is insane. You'll get smashed, and not in a good way. Don't listen to Cantonese women anyway; they're all crazy."

"That's racist," Vaz interjected. He leaned against the counter and cracked another beer. If she took her eyes off him he'd have more empties piled up in no time.

"Not if it's true. I've slept with one before."

Vaz frowned. "Oh, that—that army woman you met when we were dropping on Imber—"

"Yeah, that one. Daiyu. Chick was insane, and didn't do well on ships, either. Nice tits, though."

Naomi cleared her throat and they both looked at her. "You were saying?"

"Oh, yeah." Mal dug around in the fridge for a minute and came up with a pink bottle. "Try that. You'll be able to satisfy your russian bloke, and it's sweet."

She read the label. "I said I don't like vodk—"

"Yeah, but it's got all kinds of other shit in it. Tastes like strawberries."

"I've never had strawberries."

"Well they taste good. Go on."

She unscrewed the cap and took a whiff. It smelled like whipped fruit, and she took a sip.

"Oh," she hummed, surprised. "That does taste good!"

"Look at that Vaz, your girlfriend likes coolers." Mal, satisfied with completing his task, went back to his drink.

"Is that good?" she asked.

"You're fitting the stereotype. If Vaz is into partying lightweight white girls, then sure." He took a swig. "Could be worse."

She sat down on the bar stool and took a bigger sip. It was _really_ good. It tasted like dessert in a bottle. She decided to ignore what Mal said and enjoyed her drink. It didn't even taste like booze.

She watched the two ODSTs on the other side of the counter slowly wrack up empty drinks beside them. For the most part she was content to watch and listen to them talk, with both of their accents growing more and more pronounced every time they took a drink. With several cans of beer in each of them, the sound of rolling syllables and hard consonants filled the room.

When she reached the bottom of her cooler she frowned, not having remembered finishing it. It had been so _good_, so she pushed off the stool and went to grab another. Except instead of sliding out of her chair with her usual unconscious grace, she stumbled and caught the edge of the counter. Both men abruptly stopped talking and looked at her.

"Jesus, really, Naomi?"

She blinked hard and swallowed. She felt dizzy. "Am I drunk?"

"Some-fucking-how," Mal answered. "After one drink. I think that's a first in the Navy. Or anywhere, for that matter."

She stood easily enough on her own, but each movement was exaggerated, and everything was slightly blurred, almost to the point of being below notice. But it was enough to make her feel like she'd hit her head or stood too close to mortar fire.

She turned to look at Mal and felt her head buzz, like pins and needles in her brain. "This is horrible." It was already disconcerting, the slight loss of balance and a dimmed perception, and she'd only had one drink. Why did people like it so much?

"Drink more," he said, and slid her a second cooler. "You'll feel better."

"This one's a different colour," she replied, frowning at the yellow bottle.

"It's pineapple, I think. Or Hawaiian punch. Same deal." He finished his—fifth, she counted—beer. "Okay, Naomi. Next step in losing your alcoholic virginity."

"What now?" She took a sip of the yellow one. Maybe it wasn't so bad. She liked this one, too.

"A drinking game," he said, with exaggerated solemnity. "We'll start with one that doesn't need any setup. Speaking ones are more fun anyway."

"Setup?"

"Cards or dice or whatever. Plus after all the money you spent on this bloody place I don't feel like gambling at the moment."

"How about I Went to the Brothel?" Vaz said.

She frowned, already wary at the name of the game. "How do you play?"

"It's easy. I start by saying I went to the brothel and brought… an assplug, for example, and then you repeat what I said and add a word that starts with B. We go down the alphabet and whoever fucks up the order or forgets has to drink and the next person goes. The trick is you have to name something dirty, though. It's the adult version of picnic."

She wasn't entirely confident in her ability to rhyme off lewd words or repeat them out loud, but the pair of them seemed intent on finding another reason to drink. If nothing else, she enjoyed the idea of competition, even for something so ludicrous. "Okay," she said uncertainly. "I don't know a lot of dirty words though."

Mal shrugged. "Just think of any time you ever talked to a marine. They say a lot of vulgar shit." He nudged Vaz. "Go. I started it up, so do B."

"I went to the brothel and brought an ass plug and a _barhotka."_ He went to take a drink and then frowned, remembering the rules, then shrugged and took a drink anyway.

"How many times do I have to say no bloody russian? What does that even mean, anyway?"

"Look it up." He looked at Naomi. "Your turn."

Her face turned red. She was conditioned to live through a number of excruciating situations, but she'd never learned the art of being crass on purpose. Until a few weeks ago, her mind hadn't even _been_ on anything remotely related to sex or whatever perverted things they were coming up with.

"Um… I went to a brothel and brought an… an ass—ass plug and a bohrt-ka," she stumbled, cheeks hot, and saw Vaz bite his lip to keep from laughing. "And…." Oh god, what the hell started with the letter C that was rude? _Carrier? No. Command? No. Cyclops…? _She searched her brain, trying to remember every conversation she'd overheard from soldiers, every lewd thing she'd heard the ODSTs say—which was a lot—and finally came up with an answer that she was fairly proud of, even if she didn't entirely understand it. "And a cucumber."

There was a beat of dead silence before the both of them reacted. Mal shot beer from his nose, apparently not expecting much from her, and she heard Vaz wheeze out drunken laughter. She smiled into her drink, blushing furiously, and took a congratulatory sip.

"Oh—my fucking—_god_ Naomi," Mal coughed after a moment of harsh snorting, wiping his face. "That—"

"I never thought," Vaz began. "I never thought I'd hear _any_ of those words ever come out of your mouth."

"That was good?"

"That was bloody brilliant," Mal replied. "This game just got a hundred times more fucking funny." He blew out a breath and steadied himself on the counter, trying to remain serious. "Okay… woo, okay. My turn. I went to a brothel and brought…."

* * *

It was probably a good thing that Dev and Phillips weren't with them that night. Adding another ODST into the alcoholic mix would've spelled disaster. There was a large pool of beer on the kitchen floor, which extended to the counters and even reaching parts of the ceiling when Vaz dove over the kitchen island and tackled Mal to the ground for—for what, she couldn't entirely remember. Whatever it had been, they'd both been arguing about it. It'd been difficult to understand either of them at that point, anyway.

She'd consumed four coolers, which was enough to make her head spin whenever she moved and made it difficult to walk without grabbing onto something. The ODSTs had ingested triple of what she'd drank, and seemed only slightly worse for wear. There wasn't any significant property damage though, besides a broken bar stool leg, and she counted that as a plus.

Mal stumbled into a guest bedroom around noon New Nairobi time—they really had to get turned around—and she felt tired herself. She and Vaz leaned on each other for support, guiding one another slowly to the master bedroom. She was too fuzzy in the head to appreciate the size and elegance of the room, her brain focused solely on moving towards the massive comfy-looking bed.

They sat down on the mattress and Vaz let himself fall back, his legs dangling off the edge. He muttered something in russian that she didn't quite catch, but it sounded content and mildly slurred.

He placed a hand on her hip, and she looked over her shoulder at him. "You know," he murmured. "I think I am liking when you talk dirty."

She raised a brow. To the annoyance of Mal and the amusement of her, he'd said several more horrible things in his native tongue during their drinking game. "Oh really? Me saying nasty things in russian that I don't understand is a turn-on?"

"_Da,"_ he replied. His hand slipped under her shirt and up her back, and she shivered at his warm palm on her skin. "You are even more beautiful when you are _buhoj. _Your skin is rosy and warm." He hummed and sat up—with some difficulty—and brushed her hair away from her neck. "Softer, too."

She smiled. He was always more quiet and sappy with her when he had a few drinks in him. He kissed her throat and slid his other hand up her stomach, grabbing for her breast. _Definitely more affectionate, too._

Naomi leaned into him, running a hand up his thigh. Although she didn't enjoy the lack of control or coordination she currently felt, being drunk certainly heightened the excitement of having his hands on her skin. It was more natural, less shy and timid.

She fumbled to unclasp his belt from her position, trying to focus her attention on undressing and not that he was skimming his mouth over her skin. When she got the buckle undone and pulled the zipper down on his jeans, he pushed her roughly onto the bed and straddled her. He was far less gentle than he usually was, and she found it exhilarating. He was less in control, and she glimpsed a truer picture of just how hot and bothered he got when he was with her.

She struggled to pull his jeans down while he tugged her own off, kicking them away with a drunken graceless determination that made her laugh, which quickly turned to a moan when he slid his fingers between her legs.

"Ah," he hummed into her throat. "You are so warm and _mokry."_

She managed to push all of his restrictive clothing down around his knees, less experienced with drunken encounters, and he took no further action to get undressed beyond that. He quickly sank into her and they both groaned.

It was different this time. He was rough, and moved with a desperation she'd never felt in him before. It aroused her to no end, and they reached the peak of their coupling in no time, pressed flush together, skin dewed with sweat and hot to the touch. He moaned into her neck, flexing his hips shakily between her legs, which she'd firmly latched onto his back. She felt her body squeeze and contract around him, and she pressed her lips into his hair, forcing out harsh breath.

He collapsed heavily onto her, his head resting on her collarbone. She let out a deep sigh and wrapped her arms around him, moving them unsteadily towards the head of the mattress. She laid down next to him and pulled up the blankets, covering their half-naked bodies in soft sheets and fully removing his jeans from his legs. Naomi snuggled up to him, tucking her head under his chin, and spent the first full night asleep next to him. She smiled, content beyond words, knowing that they could do this every night for three weeks, and he'd be there beside her when she woke up.

* * *

Mal was right. She should take more leave time.

Not because of the luxury of the suite they were staying in, or the rich food and lack of schedule. They were all nice, but they were things she had easily lived without and could do so again.

Sleeping with Vaz in bed for a full eight hours and waking up next to him, however, she wanted to do for the rest of her life.

She woke up before he did, and for the first time in her life she didn't immediately get out of bed and get dressed. Instead she stretched, arching off the sheets and grinning when her feet _didn't_ slip off the end of the mattress. The sun hit her skin, warming her bare body enough to make her feel sleepy. The sun hung low in the sky, deep evening now in the city. _Naked, in bed with another person, lazing around,_ she thought. It was a day of many firsts. As had the night before been. She had a small headache that ran across her forehead, but apart from that and a general grogginess, she felt none the worse. Naomi wondered how Vaz and Mal would fare when they woke up.

Another first was the odd soreness between her legs. It felt like a cross between muscle soreness and menstrual cramps that was not entirely unpleasant. If anything, it made her want more. She'd felt it somewhat after being with him on _Infinity_, but hadn't taken the time to appreciate the unique feeling of aching muscles.

She looked over at Vaz. When ODSTs slept, they _really_ slept. He was dead to the world, his short dark hair mussed from the pillow—and from last night, she thought with a blush—and the lines of his face were relaxed and smooth. He looked so much younger, even if the scar running down his jaw pulled at his skin and distorted his cheek. It looked almost out of place on his peaceful expression.

She found it fascinating. Naomi had never seen him so calm, or so still. He was entirely vulnerable and totally trusting of her. This wasn't a quick nap he caught before a drop or in between shifts—he was truly sleeping, and it was something only she could see right now.

Naomi shifted closer to him and tucked her head under his, curling into him. Her leg wrapped around his and she settled into him. His body felt different in sleep, too. Not quite as hard, his muscles fully relaxed in slumber.

Well. Maybe not _all_ of him, she amended as her leg brushed his member. Naomi had learned a valuable tidbit of information about the male anatomy—they got erections for a multitude of reasons, especially in the morning, and not just for sex. She wondered if it was ever uncomfortable, since it looked that way.

She took a peek at his face, still blissfully unconscious. She placed a kiss on his neck and slid her fingers under the covers. The soft hairs of his abdomen tickled her palm as she tracked it down his body, a trail that lead towards her ultimate goal.

She wrapped her fingers around him and she felt his body tense for a moment before relaxing again. It was assuredly the oddest part of him; the skin was soft and incredibly sensitive, but felt harder than muscle or bone. It seemed unwieldy, but he most certainly knew what to do with it. She felt her cheeks grow pink and ran her hand up the length of him.

He stiffened again, and murmured something incoherent. She continued her ministrations, kissing his neck and shoulder. It was calm, and slow, and she heard his breathing slowly climb and his heart beat harder.

She ran her other hand through his hair, enjoying the thickness of it. He'd need to cut it soon, but for now it was a lovely place to hold on to him when they made love. A moan escaped him, low in his throat, and his hips quickly began to roll in time with her hand. His body seemed to be waking up, tensing and twitching as she continued to smooth her hand over his member.

Naomi propped herself up on one arm, lying across his body and not easing up in the movement of her hand. She watched his eyes flutter open and he rolled toward her, his breathing harsh.

"_Solnishko_—" he murmured, and moaned into her breast. "_Bly_—_ah…"_

He continued to rasp out more russian expletives, occasionally murmuring her name, until his entire body tensed and she felt his release make itself known on her thigh. She gave a few parting strokes before kissing his shoulder and finally retracting her hand, and he buried his face in her hair.

"Good morning," she whispered, smiling when she heard him laugh into her hair.

"_Dobroye utro,"_ he replied. "God, Naomi…." He pulled away and kissed her. "You should drink more often, hm?"

She smiled. "It's not the alcohol's fault," she teased, kissing him back. "I just like to touch you."

"Mmmm," he hummed, pressing his lips along her jaw. "I like waking up next to you."

"So do I." He pulled her down on top of him and they simply kissed for a few moments, warm and slightly sweaty. The softness of it was a stark contrast to the night before, but she enjoyed this tenderness just as much, if not more.

He pulled away after a moment and smoothed a thumb over her cheek. "How about a shower to clean up?"

"That sounds wonderful," she sighed, sitting up. "And coffee after."

"_Da."_

The shower was big enough for four, a big glass monstrosity that had a giant shower head directly overhead and a smaller, detachable one. When she stepped inside with Vaz and kissed him beneath the steamy spray, she began to wonder if she had in fact slipped into some slice of her own personal Heaven.


End file.
